


Watching Ants Burn

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Defiant Victim, Do Not Archive, F/F, Fear Play, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sex Magic, Tied-Up Character, unusual lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: This, Georgie thinks, is not what I had in mind when I came her.Georgie looks for answers and gets definitely not something she bargained for.





	Watching Ants Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zai42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/gifts).



_ This _ , Georgie thinks,  _ is not what I had in mind when I came here _ . Mary twists her fingers inside her cunt, making Georgie’s hips lift up from the worn out couch. She just about manages to swallow the gasp threatening to push past her lips and through the gag. She isn’t going to give that wo- _ monster _ that additional satisfaction. 

Mary watches her in an almost detached sort of way. Not in a scientist observing a test subject, but like a cruel child watching ants burn under a lens.

“Still not afraid, I see.”  There is an airy quality to her voice when she speaks. “We have to change that, don’t we. It’s what you came here for after all.”

_ I came here to get answers and maybe a cup of tea _ , Georgie responds angrily in her mind. She doesn’t think Mary can read her thoughts and therefore hopes her glare at least conveys some of her annoyance. Mary doesn’t seem to care much about it though and slowly withdraws her ice cold fingers instead. Georgie’s body betrays her once more as it clenches around them, trying to keep Mary’s fingers in, the absence of them felt immediately. As a reward or punishment, Mary pinches her clit between her fingers. That does draw out a gasp from Georgie, one in pain and not in pleasure but Mary doesn’t seem to care either way.

“Such lovely responses, but not what we’re looking for,” she sighs in disappointment and turns towards the small table on which she has laid out several bottles of dubious oils. 

_ Definitely not what I was looking for _ , Georgie tries to shoot back via an elaborate shrug of her shoulders. It’s made a bit harder by being  trussed up like a christmas turkey . Her arms are tied above her head, held there by a rope connected to something - she guesses the heavy bookcase behind the couch - and they start to hurt from the strain. Not much to be done about it, she already tried, though that was right after waking up from whatever Mary drugged her with.

Maybe if she tries just a bit more, now that Mary is turned away.

She feels quite offended that her politeness was leveraged in such a way against her, she really should’ve declined the stale tea Mary offered her. Snow White should’ve taught her that; never take anything from seemingly polite old ladies that are secretly evil incarnate. Or reincarnate? Undead?  Definitely evil, if anyone asks Georgie. As long as that someone isn’t Jon. There are statements she’s willing to share with him; the one in which she seeks out a rumour about an undead woman that ends in her tied up, with a gag in her mouth that tastes like mothballs, and playing test subject for Mary Keay, is not one of them. Especially if the experiment involves her getting literally fucked over.

It had come up in a lead for her newest investigation for ‘What the Ghost’, a women who should be dead, but wasn’t. It’s just as well that the story found her first before it reached the Institute.

After her first investigation not having yielded much, she hadn’t exactly wanted to look further into what had claimed her. By the time Jon had shared his own story, her own interest had already faded in favour of stories she found more fascinating than her own.

After she had ushered that guy out of Jon’s hospital room, Oliver Banks, a thought had taken solid shape in her mind that had been forming ever since that mannequin’s visit to her flat. That if she didn’t start to go digging up answers herself, they would find her either by accident or with  malignant  intention anyway. This way she was prepared to face whatever Jon accidentally got her into next.

Or at least that had been the plan. 

Turns out she wasn’t half as prepared as she would’ve liked to be. She’d done her research into Mary Keay, even got Melanie to get her some snippets from Gerard Keay’s file, but this woman here wasn’t the one that had died and haunted her son in ghost form.

Georgie watches as Mary slowly and methodically mixes two of the oils together. At least Georgie hopes those are conventional oils only infused with something. She doubts it. Hopefully though whatever they are, they were still within the expiration date - unlike Mary who had passed hers twice over now. 

She twists her wrist a bit more, moves them against each other to get some space between them. Maybe if she loosens the rope enough, she’ll get one hand out, as long as Mary is distracted.

Mary rubs the results between her fingers and inspects it in the light filtering through the dusty windows. “I can’t say it’s doing anything for me, but we already established that what works for me doesn’t work for you. Curious isn’t it?”

“Very,” Georgie snipes back through the gag, but it comes out more like  _ mphehy  _ if anything recognizable at all. She stops trying to free her hands the moment Mary turns back to her, smiling like she’s indulging Georgie.

“Let’s try this one then, dearie.” The smile she gives Georgie is saccharine sweet and full with the absence of death.

Georgie tries to deliver a well aimed kick when Mary approaches her again, but her legs still feel like lead. Mary doesn’t seem much bothered by her attempt, slapping her foot aside like it’s just an annoying fly. She does approach her from the side after that though, so maybe Georgie can  count it as a small success.

“Now, now, none of that.”

The little moment of accomplishment vanishes as soon as Mary slides her hand between her legs again and thrusts her slicked fingers back into Georgie without any more preparation or regard for her comfort. She’s skillful at it too, in a way that makes Georgie think she’s done it quite a lot in the past. Mary’s ice cold hands and the entire situation doesn’t make it anything remotely enjoyable though. 

At least it shouldn’t be, but the additional tingle that comes from whatever it actually is Mary’s fingers are coated in, has her body firing some mixed signals. Georgie shifts her hips, trying to at least get away from Mary a bit.

“Interesting,” Mary observes gleefully, her lips splitting into a smile, revealing her yellowed teeth. 

An old, forgotten feeling rises in Georgie at the sight of it and she pulls at the rope looped around her wrists harder until something gives way. 

Mary catches her arm and slams it back down against the side of the couch. Her hand tightens like a vice and Georgie realizes that the rope might’ve been preferable to this. 

“Oh will you look at  _ that _ .” Mary’s smile widens and she takes her fingers out of Georgie’s cunt, giving her a moment to take a shaky breath. It’s not a long respite, as Mary’s free hand comes down hard on her breast, squeezing it until Georgie lets out a painful gasp through her gag. 

“But none of that, be nice, will you.”

Georgie’s head feels dizzy and even the thought of “the hell I will” doesn’t make it far enough to be a noise through the piece of cloth stuffed into her mouth. 

Mary twists her nipple for good measure, coaxing a scream out of Georgie, before she reaches up and ties her up properly again. 

“Let’s test that some more, shall we?” 

Georgie is still trying to regain her breath when Mary turns to the table again, drizzling more of the mixed oil over her hand. 

She’d rather not test that some more, thank you very much, but it seems like she doesn’t have a choice in this at all. Her head still feels dizzy and her stomach is cramping up with something old and familiar and unused.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Mary says with false sweetness. “This will wear off. Wouldn’t want you to be debilitated by it for too long.” Georgie isn’t sure what she means by that, but she is starting to get it. The moment Mary turns back to her she freezes up and her throat seizes up, tears welling in her eyes - but this time not from anger or pain.

She still finds it in her to kick out again when Mary approaches, even if it’s weak at best.

Mary savours feeling her up this time around, runs her hand over the inside of Georgie’s thigh, toying with her pubic hair, rolling her clit between her fingers, pinching it and just pressing the palm of her hand against it. All the while watching Georgie intently, who starts shaking, sweat rolling down her brow.

Finally, when she is satisfied with what she sees she slides her fingers into Georgie again, pressing in too hard and too fast. It sends a wave of pure panic through Georgie, and then, when Mary twists her hand just so, her orgasm chases the end of that surge of fear.

“Good girl,” Mary says appreciatively, while Georgie still tries to recover. The return of her long lost feeling of fear - overwhelming in its intensity and how unaccustomed she is to it - is overshadowed by a spike of anger at those words.

_ Fuck you _ , Georgie thinks. “Fuck you,” she says into the gag.

Mary laughs - a dry laugh, like old parchment - as if she understood her anyway.


End file.
